


Dusk

by grogu-pascal (venusx)



Series: Paz Vizsla Drabbles [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: And Is a Source of Inner Turmoil, Cult Member Paz Vizsla, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Implied Age Difference, Not Beta Read, Romeo and Juliet References, Some mature themes, heavy yearning, the helmet comes off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusx/pseuds/grogu-pascal
Summary: Paz Vizsla can't stay past dusk
Relationships: Paz Vizsla & The Tribe, Paz Vizsla/Reader
Series: Paz Vizsla Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123328
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> Paz Vizsla belongs to the Tribe, a group under Children of the Watch. Children of the Watch was revealed to be a cult in S2E3.

Paz is talking. You hear it behind your ears, feel the timber of his voice echo against your skin. His voice is always booming, always bouncing against walls and across rooms to tickle at your heartstrings. Paz is talking and smiling at you so dearly. His eyes are crinkling at their corners and his mouth has softened into a one-sided grin.

You've told him how lucky he is to have eyelashes like his: thick and fluttery, always kissing the tops of his cheeks when he closes his eyes. Everything about him is so beautiful. Maybe it's the way the setting sun is shining against him right now, painting yellow-orange against the tan of his skin. Maybe it's how broad he is: ever-imposing, ever-gentle.

Paz is talking and smiling at you so dearly, and maybe you're drunk. You bring the bottle to your mouth one more time to make sure. The taste warms against your tongue. You swish the ball of liquid in your mouth and your eye twinges. It's strong. A dull cut—formed from chewing at your cheek too often—burns from the alcohol. Your fingers tangle in the lush grass below as your lips sour into a pout. He laughs. 

His eyes dance like he's in love. It's probably the liquor. You frown. It takes him too long to get drunk. By the time you're wasted, he's just beginning to feel a buzz. A product of his size, definitely. He's tall, taller than the boys back in the city you come from. Older than them too. Gray hairs sprinkle his jaw, always 2 or 3 days out from shaving. You prefer him with stubble: love the burn of his beard against your cheek, against your lips, between your thighs. 

He won't touch you when you're like this: words slurring with every sentence, giggling too hard to hear him speak. He just watches you with those eyes and it feels more dangerous that way. You try not to dwell on the fact that you aren't supposed to be seeing his eyes at all. Your gaze flickers to the horizon. It's getting dark, and he can't stay much longer. Loneliness brews in your stomach at the sun's subtle reminder that Paz is not yours to keep. 

You imagine it must tear him at the seams, to show his face to you like this. It goes against so much of the life he has lived up until meeting you. It's not something you should be asking him to do anyway. But one sip of his alcohol and all of the things you should know better than to ask for begin to prod at you.

If The Tribe ever found out, he could be punished. Excommunicated. Worse. It makes your stomach knot and heart soar that he has decided it might be worth it, if only to kiss you once every few weeks.

You've tried to reason with him, tell him that no loving family would disown one of their own over something as trivial as a face. He just goes quiet. Says The Tribe is different. That you wouldn't understand.

And you _don't_ understand. Paz is sharp as a knife and even he can't see that something is deeply wrong with his "family." You aren't sure how to save him from them. He tells you stories of their cruelty. You question why he stays. You always offer him a place in your home.

You both know that the Tribe would find him if he ever left. 

You wish that the two of you didn't have to sneak around. Wish you could convince him to stay the night sometimes, if only just a few hours. Wish you could freeze time and have him here with you forever. You lift a hand to his face, smooth out the worry line forming on his forehead. 

His lids look heavy. Perhaps the liquor is beginning to affect him after all.

"I think I've figured it out," he says. 

You wrinkle your brow, mumble a _hmm._

"I said, I think I figured out a way for us to be together." His face is heavy with thought. "But it depends on where you see yourself in a few years..." He gestures with one hand. "Us. I might be asking you for too much."

You rise from the ground, propping your elbows up on the earth. An air of seriousness clouds over you. "I'd do anything for you."

He nods and you fall back into the lush of the grass, hands folded against your stomach. Dusk passes into night and the fireflies begin to chitter. He should be leaving soon. You roll over onto his chest and press a kiss to his clavicle. He squeezes you close to him. The rumble of his heartbeat lulls against your ribcage. 

You fall asleep like that: nestled against him, whole body beaming with his warmth. To your surprise, you wake in your bed facing the sunlight that pours through the window. Your ears perk as a familiar voice booms from the kitchen. Paz is talking. Paz has stayed the night.


End file.
